Modern Manners For Your Inner Demons

by Tara Laskowski

  Schadenfreude (German): Pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others, such as feeling secretly relieved when you hear from your mother that your beautiful, rich cousin in Texas who is also trying to conceive may have an ovarian cyst.

  People, Situations and Phrases to Avoid

  Acquaintance, two kids under the age of five. Stay-at-home mother. Pregnant again, and holds her belly in her hands like it’s a crystal ball. Always has some kind of sauce on her blouse. “When are you going to have kids? Join the misery!”

  Hairdresser, every eight weeks for color and trim. In between anecdotes about the vacation to Hawaii and his flooded basement gives you “one more year of messing around” before you need to settle down and “start popping them out.” “You aren’t getting any younger,” he chokes, spraying your face with leave-in conditioner.

  Concerned friend, uncontrollable gray roots, cold hands, happily married for 800 years. “Just relax! It will happen when you least expect it,” which is the same advice she gave you when you were the last one still single.

  Online pregnancy forums, where women use terms like “baby dust,” “dh (dear husband),” and cute code names for their periods and believe that standing on your head right before ovulation increases your chances.

  Your mother, regretting her decision to have an only child, nightly phone calls, purchasing infant outfits in neutral colors when they are on sale: Just In Case. “Have you tried [insert fertility medical treatment here]?”

  The motherfucking OB/GYN waiting room with all those bitches rubbing their bulging bodies while reading Fit Pregnancy.

  Statistics and Factoids

  11.8% of women ages 15-44 are infertile.

  About 300 million to 500 million sperm come out in one ejaculation. This large number is needed to ensure conception: even under favorable conditions, only about 200 sperm actually reach the egg. (Those troopers!)

  98% of women who are addicted to crack will get pregnant the first time they have unprotected sex. This percentage is slightly lower, but still prevalent, for drunk teenage girls, strict Catholics attempting the Rhythm Method, that woman Connie who used to bring coffee to all the staff meetings and went on maternity leave five months after she had her wedding, and anyone on welfare.

  A study conducted at two university hospitals in Denmark concluded that psychological distress may indeed be a risk factor for infertility in some women. Or perhaps infertility is a risk factor for psychological distress? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Does it matter? At some point the goddamn chicken got knocked up, unless you’re like Marjorie Hampton from ninth grade who wanted everyone to believe it was an Immaculate Conception and all those Friday nights behind the McDonalds with Harvey Pilowski was just them talking.

  Sperm can last 3 to 5 days inside a woman. Your husband has lived 7 years with you.

  III. On Sex

  For a healthy relationship, it is important to try to Have Fun. Remember your husband does not want to be reminded of your basal body temperature or progesterone level when he is kissing your stomach. Try varied poses to spice things up and keep it all from becoming a business transaction—scented oils, massages, feathers on sticks that look more like cat toys, dirty talk, role playing.

  Be a Good Sport! Don’t stare at the ceiling wishing it was already over. Live in the Moment.

  He’s still got football on Sundays, poker night, his love for Russian literature and that easygoing, carefree laugh that used to coat you. He’s still got his active, strong, BILLIONS of healthy sperm that regenerate every goddamn day and that optimistic attitude that you once thought was a virtue.

  Do not play the blame game. It’s important to be able to separate what is reality and what is caused simply by your thoughts. He is napping because he had a long day at work, not because he can’t stand the sight of your face. He ordered plane tickets for Colorado because it’s your birthday and not because he’s given up on the fact that you might be too far along to fly in September.

  Think about another time, when you were young, when you and your husband were on your first date, cycling through back country of a state park when it started pouring rain and you ducked for cover under the awning of a wood shelter for the park rangers. Laughing like little kids. Remember he kissed raindrops off your forehead and he was still new, a mystery, in that time before you knew he puts ketchup in his chicken soup and is afraid of rabbits. You lost yourself in the moment, trembling on the wet ground, ripping open the condom with your teeth. You let him fill you. Overhead the thunder cracked and the rain pelted the awning like a drum beat. Later you would replay it all in your head, the torn condom, the praying, panicking, worrying while you waited for It, willing It to come, and then finally when It did come, that delirious love for life, the shots of tequila, you and he dancing late in a bar, relieved your mistake hadn’t cost you anything. But there in that moment that day, while the mud pooled around your back and your future husband hovered above you panting, thrusting, you let it all expand inside you, you let the rain patter all over your face and the cold wind goosebump your arms and you wondered, crazily, delightedly, what the odds were of getting struck by lightning.

  THE ETIQUETTE OF ELOPING

  Chapter 3: How to Deal with Difficult People

  Part I — The Dinner Party

  (Three Days after Your Engagement)

  It can be intimidating to enter a room full of strangers, especially your future in-laws’ friends. Hold a strong drink as you mingle, but keep track of how often you refill. Remember to smile a lot and nod appropriately. The Ring will be the main point of conversation—avoid any traps that may involve the size or cost of it, and pretend you don’t know that his mother is disappointed that you didn’t go for something more traditional and well, DIAMOND. When they ask you what exactly the stone is, don’t go into a long explanation about how much you love turquoise.

  If you feel backed in a corner or bullied into making a decision you aren’t comfortable with, pretend to choke on a lemon seed or drop a piece of shrimp on the ground and make a show of having to clean it up. Do not feel pressure to decide on a) the designer of the gown, b) the venue, date and time of the reception, c) if you are going to get married in a Catholic church like Sissy, right, because of course that’s the way it should be done, or d) if his three sisters will all be bridesmaids.

  No, you do not have to try Uncle Rich’s stuffed mushrooms, no matter how many times he hints at it.

  Try patting a cold, wet paper towel on the back of your neck, your wrists and forehead. If that doesn’t work, open the bathroom window and look out into the cold, dark quiet air, listen to the soft chirp of the crickets and contemplate climbing out and escaping into the woods and living with the little chipmunks who don’t really care if you are going to have a Head Table or not. Then close the window, go find your fiancé, and whisper things to him that involve straws and camels and backs.

  Part II — Email Etiquette

  It would be thoughtful to send a thank you note to your fiancé’s cousin who bought you a 20-lb. wedding planner book complete with seven sheets of stickers and rose-scented paper. Written, mailed notes are always best, but if you don’t have any stationery, a nice thoughtful email is probably ok.

  After sending the email, don’t be alarmed when your fiancé’s sister’s name pops up in your inbox, next to a subject line of Bachelorette Party Ideas!!!!!! Should you click on any of the embedded links to online party stores selling products such as penis-shaped straws, naughty dice, paper crowns and sashes and horribly cheap-looking t-shirts, immediately run a virus scan on your computer just to be sure. Then click on “Write New Message” and type a quick email to your fiancé that does not mention anything about any of his sisters. Take a deep breath, leave your office and walk down to the bookstore and buy a grande caramel mocha latte and a road map for Las Vegas.

  Chapter 5: The Guest List

  The typical Bride-To-Be spends many years even before her engagement dreaming abo
ut the details of her wedding—everything from what she will wear to whom she will invite. The non-typical Bride-To-Be is still shocked that she is GETTING MARRIED??? and gets hives thinking about having to walk down a small aisle with everyone in creation she knows staring at her.

  Think long and hard about your guest list as you wander through the aisles of the grocery store, choosing essential items such as: Cheez-Its, a nail file, an extra pair of pantyhose (in case the ones you packed catch a run in them like pantyhose ALWAYS SEEM TO DO when you really need them not to), a new travel toothbrush and those yummy Swedish Fish. Should you see the latest copy of Cosmopolitan with latest air-brushed photo of latest young, hot, everywhere-you-look movie actress on the cover and a sensational exclamation-pointed headline on the side reading: “What is YOUR Dream Wedding? Take the quiz to find out!,” buy it on a whim.

  Read it aloud to your fiancé as he drives fast. Make sure to wipe the crumbs of Cheez-Its from your fingers before scribbling names on the back of a napkin—all those you would A-list, followed by the backups—before shredding the list into thin strips and watching them flutter out of the car window into the desert.

  How to Have a Budget Wedding!

  Screw the reception.

  Screw the flowers.

  Screw the little cheap tin boxes filled with mints that have your first names encased in a shiny silver heart and the date of the wedding embossed on the top.

  Screw the DJ who can’t pronounce your names and plays “Rump Shaker” when your Aunt Gerty gets out on the floor. In fact, while we’re at it, screw all those horrible songs that people only dance to when they are wasted at weddings, such as:

  “We Are Family”

  “Electric Slide”

  “The Locomotion”

  “Hot, Hot, Hot”

  Anything by KC and the Sunshine Band

  Screw the never-hot-enough chicken satay and stuffed mushroom appetizers and the insane open bar bill estimation.

  Calculate the costs associated with the above and make a list of the things you can do with that money instead. Some suggestions:

  FIRST CLASS tickets to Cairo to see the Pyramids and ride on a freaking camel

  A generous down payment on a new Mini Cooper

  Rent

  Seriously, those $500 Kate Spade boots don’t seem quite so ridiculous now, do they?

  An Alaskan cruise

  As many all-you-can-eat seafood buffets as you have ever desired.

  On Invitations

  Hey Beautiful Bride! So your beau is more interested in watching football than browsing all the stationery stores in your city? Here’s your chance! Your perfect wedding invitation would be described as:

  Heavyweight paper of ivory, soft cream or white, printed in a serif type such as Roman in black or dark gray ink.

  Heavyweight paper of ivory, soft cream or white, embossed with the family coat of arms or crest at the top center of the page in the same color as the typeface.

  An environmentally sustainable invitation that can be planted in the backyard and will grow a nice bunch of wildflowers if properly watered.

  Printed at Kinko’s on pale pink paper or whatever is on sale, folded up and stamped so as not to waste money on an envelope.

  Are you answering E. for none of the above? A none-of-the-above kind of gal doesn’t have a NEED for invitations at all. A none-of-the-above kind of gal chokes on her Slurpee as she thinks about the idea of a family crest (considering HER family barely had enough sense to have a working MAILBOX on the front of their house, let alone a coat of arms!) A none-of-the-above kind of gal hates the color pink, sneezes when encountering any kind of flowers, and thinks formal wedding invitations are for the birds (or at least are for people like Stacey, who bring things like kale and bean sprouts for lunch each day, shop at Macy’s and believe that nothing in life is good unless you have a china pattern you can live with).

  A none-of-the-above kind of gal also has a fiancé who has no interest in football, but instead spends his Sundays writing songs on his guitar and marking up pages of his poetry books, and is at this moment urging his future wife to put down that stupid magazine and lean over the gearshift to nibble on his sweet-smelling ear, thank you very much.

  Music for the Ceremony

  Prelude: A program of music that begins a half-hour before the wedding. Try scanning through the radio stations once you cross the Nevada border until you come across something by Jim Croce or Cat Stevens. We recommend something with a love theme, though “Time in a Bottle” might put your fiancé to sleep.

  Processional: This music signals the beginning of the ceremony. Think loud organs, half in tune, half out, that scared the pants off of you when you were drifting off a bit in the overly air-conditioned church during your cousin’s wedding last summer. Instead, as you walk into the small red-carpeted room of the chapel, note the piped-in muted version of “Pachabel’s Canon” and fight the urge to sway.

  Ceremony: No hymns or sung prayers here. Your officiant, who may have very cold hands with thick rings on at least three different fingers, should take the time to type up your names and print them out if his handwriting is so atrocious. No, he does not dress like Elvis (even if you secretly wanted him to) and no, he is not going to go beyond the 20-minute time period, but really what did you expect?

  Recessional: Choose music that will reflect the joy of your new union—Stevie Wonder’s “Sir Duke” has a wonderful trumpet introduction that will sound lively and celebratory as you uncork the bottle of Blanton’s stashed in the car and pour two shots in plastic Super 8 cups you remembered to take from the hotel bathroom.

  What You Will Not Get

  An opportunity to pay back all your friends, especially Tiffany, who made you wear the Pepto-Bismol-calf-length-strapless shiny thing with a large bow above your breasts and dyed satin heels that stained your ankles pink for days after.

  A Kitchen Aid mixer, five fruit bowls, two vases, three gold picture frames (one of which has “Man and Wife” engraved along the bottom), a gravy ladle, double old fashioned tumblers, weird lingerie from your sister-in-law, an electronic wine chiller or 800 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.

  The Dress—yes, you say, you can buy a white dress anytime. This is true. But what you will not get with said dress is all that comes with it—the POWER that you see whenever a bride walks into a room. The hush of the crowd, the tears from the aunties, that wonderful rustling swishing sound that comes when she turns quickly. There will be times in your life when you feel utterly, truly beautiful, but you will not have that Wedding Day Moment that all those lady friends talk about.

  There may come a time months after when you feel a twinge of regret. Get in your car. Drive to your parents’ house and find your father in the kitchen, his battery-powered radio propped next to the sink, playing the oldies’ radio station like always. Grab his hand, pull the dishrag from it. Turn up the radio then and twirl around with him around the breakfast table to “Bring It On Home to Me” by Sam Cooke, perhaps not the song you would’ve chosen, but beggars yadda yadda yadda. The clincher is you’ll have your father-daughter dance, dammit, and when you look up at him and he’s tearing up, let him blame it on the onions he just cut.

  THE ETIQUETTE OF HOMICIDE

  II. On Introductions

  Above all, you must be patient.

  It may take some time to get a full answer, so don’t be afraid of a little bit of silence. Prompting, such as “go on,” or “what are you thinking?” or “I’m going to beat your face into mashed potato pulp” will not help and will likely make them nervous. You should also avoid finishing people’s sentences when they pause. Give them time to articulate their thoughts in their own way.

  Listen carefully to their answers (but never write them down) and give positive feedback, such as, “You’re doing a good job” or “That wasn’t that hard now, was it?” Avoid threats if at all possible. Be sure to give sincere feedback between questions; if they don’t think you mean wha
t you’re saying, it won’t help you.

  Express a positive impression of interacting with them. When it’s time for you to part ways, smile and let them know that you appreciated talking with them. If you seem insincere, they may feel discouraged rather than uplifted. It is important to let them know this is nothing personal—it’s just your job.

  Appendix C — Recipe for Old Fashioned

  2 oz bourbon whiskey

  2 dashes Angostura® bitters

  1 splash water

  1 tsp sugar

  1 maraschino cherry

  1 orange wedge

  Mix sugar, water and Angostura® bitters in a tall shaker. Dump in an old-fashioned glass, or if you are traveling, any glass will do. Drop in a cherry and an orange wedge. Muddle into a paste using a muddler or the back end of a blunt instrument (like a spoon, or the handle of a screwdriver). Pour in bourbon, fill with ice cubes, and stir. Drink in three gulps sitting down, shoes off, toes waving into the carpet threads. Repeat. Repeat.

  Part 7 — The Dance

  There are no rules of protocol. The Client prefers you to use bullets. The gun is like your dick, The Client says. Hold it close, protect it. It makes you Who You Are, they say. A steady hand, scope, sniping away from a great distance.

  Prefer something more intimate? A dance, then, with a partner who prefers to hover at the edge of the room, just in front of the floor-to-ceiling velvet drapes. Find him there, approach quietly from behind as not to startle. Put your arms around his and remember the waltz lessons Mrs. Kessel taught you long ago on that gym floor—one two three, one two three—and in Mr. Duncan’s home economics class years after that, slicing through chicken quickly, efficiently—with confidence you’d get right through the bone. Trust the knife, silent like a goodnight kiss. Then pirouette your partner out, one two three, one two three. Thank you. Thank you.